Cell Block Tango
by CretianStar
Summary: Who doesn't love a merry murderess, or a KGB trained spy? Six of the hits that the Black Widow undertook based off the murders from "Chicago".
1. Pop

A/N: I'm sooo close to being finished with uni and naturally in my last push my muse offers this tiny little thing.

It will be a six parter, title taken from Chicago because who doesn't love female killers?! It's being posted in Avengers because apparently Black Widow is not important enough for one movie but Iron Man, Cap and Thor deserve 3...

* * *

 **Pop**

The Red Room had trained her for many situations but she never thought she'd be masquerading as a poor gypsy selling balloons to hit her mark.

The method to killing this eccentric inventor had plagued her for weeks, it had taken everything the Room had instilled into her to create such a far-fetched method they'd be talking of her kill for months, maybe even years.

She'd spent ages creating an airborne powder that wouldn't affect the balance of a helium balloon that when popped with an air gun would disperse and kill. She'd affectionately nicknamed it Femme Arachnidia, she was rather proud of the recipe; she'd adapted it from the Red Room's archives on Lucrezia Borgia but it definitely had her own touch, it could kill quicker.

Natalia thrust the balloon into her mark's hand speaking soft broken Greek begging for money but she jumped backwards when a guard intervened between the two of them. Her eyes wide and frightened, she made sure to scurry back at the sight of his piece before fleeing, leaving the bemused eccentric with the balloon firmly wrapped around his hand.

This would be luck.

She tailed them, having shirked her gypsy guise in a trashcan and now looked beautiful in a modest Greek dress, fitting in with the surrounding tourists. They entered the villa that the inventor was staying in and she edged the neighbouring building, having already marked the weak spots while retaining a good view to the man's private study.

Opening the balcony doors that would be just above his window Natalia leant against the rail, surreptitiously drawing out her knife. She had planned her escape through the empty apartment into the bustling square of the town below and off the small island as quickly as possible. Sizing up the mark below her she saw he had taken the balloon all the way through and she thanked her ever present lucky streak took aim with the childish BB gun.

The balloon popped and with the sight of the cascading white powder, she vanished from sight, leaving the doors open before she escaped into the thrumming crowds. She only officially heard of the inventor's death when she touched back down on Russian soil, wrapping her scarf around her neck a little tighter and grasping the handle of her carry-on bag strode to the airport like any other tourist around her. She looked like any other young woman arriving home but in her mind she was trying to decide whether Femme Arachnidia would be better out of a powder form and if she could refine it to a gas.

 _He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame, if you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it... I betcha you would have done the same!_


	2. Six

A/N: Aren't I good doing them all today. That and I'm listening to the track on repeat...

Going to be totally honest with you, I don't know how to go about killing someone, what poisons will do what and how long they take to work, I'm relying on wikipedia and my own imagination. If they're scientifically incorrect I do apologise!

* * *

 **Six**

This man was going to die. Look at him, laughing and joking away with others when in fact he had killed six of the best the Red Room had to offer. Not just other girls she had trained with, sparred against, ate meal-times with but other agents.

He had killed six and he had not one drop of remorse in his features or posture. He held himself with poise and joked with those fawning women around him. She had spotted his face as soon as she walked through the door but he had not seen her.

Yet.

He would when she was ready for him. Accepting a champagne flute with a smile, Natalia circled the edge of the room marking her exits and tallying the people in the room. It had taken her a moment to decide how this American would meet his end. For the six murders on his tab she had wanted something that was elegant, painful and specifically not Russian. She had settled on arsenic.

In her Red Room classes she had been told that most American families drank arsenic in their water but it didn't kill them. This American already had a base amount of arsenic in his body from his upbringing but well Natalia wouldn't mind tipping him over the edge.

Not that she hadn't upped his intake over the last month of conferences anyway… For a man who had suffered a severe migraine an hour ago he looked pretty well. Not for long. Natalia couldn't count the number of times she had been in and out of his hotel room. She had waylaid the waiting staff on a number of times, pretending to be hopelessly lost whilst slipping extra dosages into his food. She had intercepted his tray outside the door, temporarily knocking one of the servers unconscious before stealing her uniform. Arsenic's tasteless state made it a very helpful drug and the American's pasta salad received a particularly large dose that night.

If she looked closely now, in the ballroom she noticed the slight sheen to his skin, the tic under his eye was probably his attempt to control stomach cramps and she thought now was the best time to make her move.

Thomas Lincoln was dazzled by the blonde that came over to enquire if he was okay, that he looked a little peaky and would he like company back to his room. He was so charmed by the inquisitive and caring look in her eyes that he said yes without a second thought to the convulsions threatening to rip his body apart. Maybe he needed a little TLC?

He took the champagne glass from her hand when she offered it and swallowed it back in one large gulp, handing the empty glass to a vendor who put it in the crate under a table with all the other dirty glasses and Lincoln smiled at his new guest's girlish laughter before the pair left to the 17th floor.

She allowed him to lead the way, pressing the buttons on the lift, opening the door for her before he sat heavily on the bed.

"You really are not well." Her accent was indistinct; European but her English was so impeccable he couldn't place it. Not that his head was allowing him to think at the moment. "I'll get you some water." His eyes were trained on the floor as she pushed a full glass under his nose which he drank from thirstily.

His eyes felt fuzzy, his head was pounding and finally everything clicked as he looked up at the woman.

"What…" He gurgled as she pushed him back onto the bed. She'd pulled on leather gloves and hauled his compliant body further up, pinning his hands to the bed-head with his own tie before stripping his clothes off.

"Next time your agency decides to kill six of mine, they'll remember you as a warning." She winked once and carefully, leather gloves still in place she left the corridor.

When the police would arrive later that night they would find the security tapes erased completely, hard-drive missing and the security guard bound and drugged in a corner of the room. The entire night had been deleted and nobody would see who had been around on the seventeenth floor. The blonde had been replaced by a brunette with a heavy Russian accent, the blonde had been there solely for that night, no-one else had seen her during the entire month of conferences.

 _He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame, if you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it... I betcha you would have done the same!_


	3. Squish

A/N: This isn't a long one because my original idea was poisoning for this but I have done it for the last two chapters so I decided to make this one have a reminiscent tone.

Again, never stabbed someone I have no idea what the noise is; I'm guestimating!

* * *

 **Squish**

There is a noise the human body makes when a blade is driven through the flesh.

It's not the noises the mouth makes, the screams of pain etc etc, it's a noise the actual flesh makes and it's not until Natalia was making a fruit salad that she realised it sounded the same as cutting into grapes. She tried biting into them but it wasn't quite the same. The feel of the grape flesh breaking apart under her teeth mirrored that of a blade and human flesh but the noise was something different.

Her cover as Sally-Anne Johnson required her to be a stay at home wifey, waiting for her husband (a fellow KGB agent) to come home from work. He was re-conning the area around the bar that Natalia would infiltrating in the next week. She had sliced the rest of the fruit without incident, pouring the orange juice into the bowl ready for the party she was supposed to be hosting when cutting into the grape she just recognised that noise.

It was a squish noise. A noise of no-resistance, that the flesh hadn't put up a fight against the blade. In her targets there were often bones in the way but the grape was a purity and as a result there were far too many of the little fruits in the punch bowl. She liberally doused the ensemble in vodka and then again with more orange juice just to soften it all up. The British couldn't often handle alcohol the way she and Vladimir could. But William and Sally-Anne Johnson were a nice couple newly moved with everything still in boxes but had agreed to hold the next party for his work colleagues. It was an unfortunate side effect of a long term cover.

She was not made for domesticity, Natalia glared at the fruit knife then glancing around her hurled the blade into the wooden door frame, smirking at the satisfying thunk behind her.

 _He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame, if you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it... I betcha you would have done the same!_


	4. Uh Uh

A/N: I'm back - after a year! Oops. Here's the next one :)

Enjoy!

* * *

She couldn't believe it. By the time she'd reached the isolated cabin in the middle of the Italian Alps her mark was already bleeding out over the rustic wood flooring.

His eyes were wide and staring and she hissed in her frustration but as her fingers brushed across the dead man's forehead she realised he was cool; he'd be discovered soon and she would not be found with him. Snaking back down the mountain side she met her rendezvous who quizzed her on the successfulness of the hit. Shaking her head she told him sharply that she needed to speak to their handler.

Yelena Rezelkoff raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow as Natalia recounted her story, away from the other agent.

"So you did not complete this one." Yelena pursed her lips. "You must find out who got there before you." She gestured to her subordinate widow who was frowning heavily. This was the first time Natalia had a kill fail and it was clear she was not taking it well.

"Oh I will." Talia's smile was lethal and Yelena had to grin a little – the girl was good. "Will I be able to kill them?"

"Give me their name once you find it and I'll tell you if you can kill them or not." Yelena nodded towards the other agent. "Go and grapple with Sergei. His kill also failed." Talia's look swept over the blonde agent waiting in the corner of the room. "You two clearly have competition and we would like to at least know who they are before we remove them from the arena." Yelena smiled.

"That I will be happy to do." Natalia frowned towards the man waiting.

"Seriously. Practice your seduction on Sergei, not that it will take much but the practice is always nice." Yelena stood and dusted off her beige coloured skirt. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to go and see the British ambassador and his family." The Russian accent vanished in a heartbeat, leaving a perfectly polished French one in its place. "Sergei and you are to stay here tonight under the guise of Mr and Mrs Wilcox, a British couple who have rented the cabin for the night. Report back to base tomorrow."

 _He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame, if you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it... I betcha you would have done the same!_


	5. Cicero

A/N: Final chapter for this up later this week! Enjoy!

* * *

Natalia had finally found the man who had poached her kill in the Italian Alps.

Yelena had given her green light on removing him permanently and the young Widow had happily run the man down in France.

She stood in the lobby of the Hotel Cicero, looking for the young man who was now sporting a ruffled head of red hair. If her intel was to believed, he was her mark and she couldn't wait to deliver her sweet vengeance. Scanning the room, she spotted him at the bar, looking particularly dashing as he chatted to the blonde woman next to him. Her intelligence concerning the blonde was rather interesting; she was his mark and a rather important woman in the local branch of the Mafia. Talia quickly strode to the other end of the bar, determined to finish this rival before he took down the Mafia woman.

A couple of martini's later, Natalia spotted the man steering the woman out by the elbow. Talia stumbled across the room, straight into their path, falling heavily over the woman and spilling her drink down the dark green satin. The disgusted look on the blonde's face told Talia she was cock-blocking but after making several apologies and promising to pay the dry cleaning bill she clocked the redhead squinting at her, as if to place her face.

"I'm going to see if I can dry my dress." The blonde hissed, disappearing to the loo while mentally calling her Uncle to take out the pesky brunette that was interrupting her pleasure night. All the while the redhead toy boy she had been angling after called out he'd wait for her.

As soon as the blonde was out of earshot Talia turned to him with a smirk.

"Oh no you won't." She looped her arm with his and led him out of the hotel, the rival resisting until she pressed a gun into his side. Her shawl hide the weapon from the back as the pair walked out of Cicero into an alley a few streets down.

"The infamous Widow." He sneered, suddenly placing her face.

"You poached my kill." She smiled softly, the rival didn't see the venomous look in her eyes.

"Yeah… and?" He was a cocky CIA agent and Talia felt a bolt of pleasure as her widow bite incapacitated him before he could utter another word and the knife to the neck finished him off.

"And I get to take you out." She dusted off her fingers before disappearing out of the alley.

 _He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame, if you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it... I betcha you would have done the same!_


	6. Lipschitz

A/N: So this kind of jumps ahead but finite! Enjoy!

* * *

 **Lipschitz**

This Doctor was one Natasha was happy to take out.

That's who she was now, Tasha. Not Talia.

She was free of the Red Room. Clint Barton had hauled her KGB arse out of a fire and after a bit of undeserved trust she found herself in SHIELD instead, saving lives not taking them. Well she _was_ taking lives, but the right ones this time.

This kill was personal. Doctor Lipschitz's death would probably get her into all forms of trouble, especially as she was only nearing the end of her SHIELD probation but this was a kill Tasha _had_ to undertake. Clint would understand why this man had to die.

So when she strolled into his laboratory and shot him at point blank, there was a joy in watching him crumple onto his desk. Smirking slightly, she turned to the man's assistant and shot him as well, even while his mouth formed the word 'Natalia'.

She was right, Fury roasted her arse for the two unauthorised deaths. But as she smiled up at him serenely while he threatened her with almost anything, it was Clint that called off the interrogation and pulled Tasha out of the brightly lit room to the relatively dark training floor.

"Who was he Natasha?" Clint pulled taut his string before releasing the arrow. It hit the target with a satisfying thunk. Though, she had noted he used her full name which meant she was still in his bad books.

"He's a Doctor that worked for the Red Room." She sighed, picking up metal stars and they soon joined Clint's arrow.

"I know that. Who was he to you?" Clint amended his question as he nocked another arrow then spun to hit a target 100 foot away.

"The man that experimented on the Widows. He gave us different formulas and serums to see what would strengthen us and what would kill us." Her tone was detached but Hawkeye knew better than to offer any physical comfort to the woman before him. She had been conditioned to avoid love or intimacy. Everything about her life had been cold and he could only thaw her one tiny piece at a time.

"What did he do to you?"

"We have a ceremony as a Widow, we undergo sterilisation. But Lipschitz also convinced some of the seniors that the Widows were strong enough to go through other various tortures. Then he started doing them on the younger girls and because of that I always promised I was going to put a bullet in his brain." Tasha had explained all of this while calmly shooting different targets around the room. She had only missed one perfect shot when she mentioned the younger girls and suddenly Clint was very glad she'd already killed the Doctor.

"Well… then he's better off dead really." It was all Clint could offer, but from the half smile she gave him, he knew it had been enough for Nat.


End file.
